


Weathered

by TaterPie



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Comfort, First Time, Frottage, Gift Fic, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Snow, Solo Worries a Lot, bed sharing, mostly feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaterPie/pseuds/TaterPie
Summary: After a mission gone not exactly well, the team trudges through the snow in civilian clothes, somehow making it to the not so safe 'safe house'Gaby was given the bed by the fire, Solo ended up with the other. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for Illya rolling around on the floor being infuriating with his chattering teeth. With it being the only choice, Napoleon lets Illya share the tiny twin bed.Aka Feelings are confusing for the American, life sucks, and why does Illya have to keep putting his lips on Solos neck?





	Weathered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purpose_miner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpose_miner/gifts).



> Based on their prompt:
> 
> They get snowed in while on a mission in the mountains. They are trapped in a cabin with only two beds for the three of them, so Illya takes the floor, because he is adamant the cold doesn't matter for him. Only he's shaking like hell and Napoleon can't get any sleep because of his chattering teeth, so voila, bedsharing.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Well this sure was last minute. Im not completely happy with it/don't feel its up to snuff with my usual stuff, but ey.
> 
> Im sorry in advance for spelling errors/mistakes. I barely had time to beta this myself. Ill edit it in the next few days to make it less fail. I just hope you like solo being a pining mess because it morphed in to that haha OTL
> 
> Merry Holiday times dude!

This kind of sucked...OK not just kind of if he was being honest. Sure it wasn't the worst position they could be in, as a team they had faced far less pleasant, but in the moment it felt pretty darn crappy.

Whoever had decided their safe house would be a cabin with a lack of food, heat, and running water, well they were in for a earful from Solo once back at HQ.

After running from the enemy through knee deep snow with their civilian clothing on, Gaby, Solo, and Illya were not exactly in bright spirits with day had played out. It was supposed to be a simple extraction in a fancy house at the peak of a moderately tall mountain. But as wrong as some past missions had gone, this just went to shit in every sense. Napoleon should have known to take Waverlys description of the mission being 'easy' or 'in and out' with a grain of salt. It was like that saying 'what could go wrong' anyone who used it tended to regret ever thinking it.

Sure getting inside was rather quick with no mess, but the target was shot before they could get the info they needed, Gaby had been given a painful looking shiner which Solo worried may have caused a slight concussion. In his own little brawl, the American had his arm practically dislocated, and Illya may have accidentally started a fire. Not like there way any real accident once you put the pieces together. They did escape though, mostly unscathed.

Maybe it was the world repaying them for what had just been, but no map for direction, only the light of the moon on snowy ground, and a lack of even as much as a pair of mittens the team made it to the safe house. It was really more a hut, even to Illya who had lower standards of what constituted as a home than the other two.

Still, Napoleon felt bad for even wanting to complain, it could have been worse, as well as less 'safe'. Really though only two twin beds, both with the thinnest sheets and a single scratchy blanket, a single fireplace next to the bed shoved haphazardly beside in in the 'living room' if you could even call it that, and no way to make food, it felt like a slap in the face after what they had gone through. Yes no one was shot...OK well, no one from Uncle was, and everyone had all of their limbs for now, but it really didn't help with morale to see they didn't even have a pot to boil some snow in for tea.

If he could at least warm a bath or curl up under a thick blanket, surely Gaby would enjoy either as well. But no. The two room, or three if you counted the bathroom which literally just had a toilet, leaving one to wash their hands in the kitchen, all together couldn't have been more than 450sq feet.

Of course he and Illya quickly decided Gaby deserved the bed by the fire. Poor thing had been wearing oxfords with tights as her only cover from the snow, which was far higher on her frame than just the knees. It was the least they could do to give her privacy and the few other linens Illya had come across in a wooden chest in the actual bedroom.

For the two of them it didn't matter much that they had to share a room. It had happened now more times than they could count. But the single bed was going to be iffy. In any other climate neither would care if they had to take the floor, but the small scratchy looking rug and chill coming in the single pane windows made it even more unappealing.

On top of that, it wasn't kindness that made Illya offer the bed to Solo, as much as he would have liked that. Peril was too stubborn, too much wanting to prove his Russian blood and childhood in a snowy climate could push him through this.

Napoleon had no energy to fight him, another thing they had been through many a time. So he settled for it and took off any bit of clothing that had been dampened by the melting snow, leaving him in just a thin t shirt and underwear. He was quick to crawl under the covers, curled in to a ball and trying to keep any heat in.

As he turned to face the wall and give Illya a bit of privacy, the thought of that fire overtaking the mansion as they left didn't sound so bad. Sure he had been in snow before, but this unpreparedness had chilled him enough to make it hard to stop the shivering. Solo was one to pride himself on braving the elements, but at least the sight of Illya trembling as they pushed inside the house as well as dash straight for the fireplace to get it going made him feel a bit less weak. For now he was going to blame how sore he was and his level of tiredness on how badly he was handling this, maybe he would come up with a better excuse to give Waverly after resting.

He didn't even notice when Illya turned the light off a minute or two later. The window above his bed was letting in just as much or more than the little lamp had given. Night or not, the blanket of white over everything outside was glowing with just the moon and stars shining down. Which he didn't mind so much during their mad dash, at least they could see where they were stepping. Now that he wanted to sleep though, it was looking like a nuisance.

Sighing, Solo just kept rubbing his hands over his feet now that he had moved in to a position with his knees to his chest, hoping that the smaller he was, the warmed he would stay.

Illya was probably laying there similarly, he could hear a rustle of fabric from time to time. The damn guy even said no to Solo's generous offer of the blanket, not like he really wanted to give it up, but it was the thought that counted right? If he should get the bed, Illya deserved something. Though if he had accepted it, the man was pretty sure Peril would have just given it to Gaby.

Sighing he closed his eyes, not wanting to think about this or anything but fire and sun and warm beaches. As much as he wanted to sleep it just wasn't happening for whatever reason. Maybe that dash to safety had his adrenaline still pumping, he just hoped that it would die down and allow him to doze off soon. In sleep he wouldn't feel as frozen to the core or in need of something for his arm pain.

For what he guessed to be around half an hour he just kept staring at the wood grain on the old wall, using it as a sort of sheep counting monotony to make himself tired. Really though it was just pissing him off and causing a bit of a headache to creep on. Illya wasn't doing much to help either. Constantly grunting and sighing and rolling from one side to another on the creaky floor, oh and that damn chattering of his teeth.

It was obvious from the constant noises that he wasn't faring as well as he promised he would. Explaining earlier to Solo how growing up in areas near Siberian winter made him immune. Ha, Immune his ass. As much as he wanted to think of what sassy remark he would use in the morning to Russian how wrong he had been, the sound was starting to piss him off.

It made him feel like he was colder as well, which was even more annoying than the distraction from rest. He moved his hand over his right ear, the other blocked by the pillow as he lay on his left side, but quickly found it did nothing to help and took his hand from under the slightly warmer blanket.

Napoleon didn't snap often, he found ways to reign in his anger and annoyance, unlike Illya who had very little control over his rage, but he was at his wits end right now. He tried singing in his head, switching to his other side, using the pillow over his whole face, it just couldn't be drowned out.

"Fuck, stop it!" He said as he suddenly sat up, smashing the pillow on to his lap. Of course a bit or regret sank in at the thought of how Gaby probably heard his cry. Hopefully she was sound enough asleep to have not been bothered.

Illya scowled and moved to face the other man, still shivering he said "Stop what?"

Sighing, Solo pulled his hands down his cheeks and said "Groaning, Shivering, Chattering, Just all of it."

"I can not help this." Illya crossed his arms over his chest, keeping his hands warm under his arm pits as he lay there. Why the hell was he being scolded? Solo was in a warm bed. If anyone had the right to complain it was him.

"I know. I just...ugh." He took a breath, looking at the large man still shifting and wiggling around on the floor. It was kind of pitiful, and the only thing he could think of was something he really wished he didn't have to do. Solo wouldn't have invited if it weren't the last option, just nothing else came to mind and with his patience running thin as well as feeling bad for the idiot, he just went for it.

He begrudgingly set the pillow where it should be, then lifted the blanket and patted the bed with his other hand, looking both angry and defeated, as well as uneasy. He had some big doubts about this idea of such close proximity in very tight quarters, and feelings of another sort to top that off.

Sure he hadn't decided what sort of feelings they were, but they existed and tormented him on a daily basis. Sometimes just worrying too much, a desire to be closer, to just feel Illya's breath, even that wretched jealousy when Illya so gently touched Gaby on her cheek or brushed his fingers through her hair.

Other than freezing to death or murdering someone because his tepid mood, he really realllly didn't want to explore what it all meant. On any other day maybe, he would do it with reluctance and a careful distance between emotion and necessity, but tonight? It didn't sound that great.

Illya gave him a look like a deer in headlights, not saying anything, but his expression gave Napoleon everything he needed to know with out words. "Jesus, Just get in. I'm freezing, and you obviously are as well."

"Am not." He snapped in response, not even really aware of what he was replying to. He was too cold and too unsure of this whole situation to look deeply at it.

"Get. In. The. Bed." Solo said, patience dwindling by the second.

"I am fine. Just go to sleep Cowboy."

"Do I have to force you? Because I will do so. Even if that means having to put my bare feet on that cold floor after spending so long trying to bring feeling back to them." It wasn't often he looked so serious, Solo was more for play and teasing. A sort of kind yet pushy way to get what he wanted. But being completely forceful like this made Illya uncomfortable.

When he stood he looked like a dejected dog with its tail between its legs, and if this were one of those moments on a regular day Solo would poke fun and swim in the feeling of superiority. Likely the lack of such a response was what made Illya feel so defeated.

He kicked his shoes off, then his slacks, and dropped his coat, not needing to take as much off as Solo. Being as tall as he was his pants were the only casualty of the snow, so he kept his button up on. Then he climbed in and let the linens fall over him.

The bed was already small for one person, let alone one of Illya's size. He had to keep his legs bent a bit to make sure his feet didn't hang off the end. That in turn brought them closer, all the while Solo had flipped to face the wall as fast as he possibly could.

Illya didn't know the reason, but had a sad sort of expectation that it was because the man was disgusted to be this close. Sure he couldn't have been any more wrong, but they were both full of assumptions right now. All quite incorrect and misguided.

Still Solo let him take his time to get comfortable, eyes closed and thinking of warm sand again. If he could separate himself from the moment and not think of how the brush of a leg against his own or the heft of weight against his back was Illya, he may make it through this with out any miserable failures or embarrassments.

Maybe this had been the wrong solution, now as they were he found one other option that hadn't come to him before in the heat of the moment. He could have just crawled under that stupid dirty rug and been miserable there, giving this guy the bed. But no. He was frazzled and tired and out of patience, which lead him to decide this tense awkwardness swirling in his head had been a good idea.

He may be a fantastic thief and a good enough spy, but when emotions came in to it Solo was a bit worse for wear. Often his flings were devoid of anything real. It was all just a way to forget, to feel good, to not have to face such things. It was easy and he never had to see the other person again afterwards if he decided it best, which was often.

Illya though, he was around him every day, calling him Cowboy, helping him through tough times, patching wounds, being way too gentile to comprehend coming from the volatile beast. It was slowly killing him. At the moment what really didn't help was that Illya had given up on sleeping back to back. They both knew there wasn't space for that, but had tried to make it work while still leaving space for air between them.

No matter what he did, Peril kept having to hold the metal beam on the old wobbly head board and put a foot on the floor so not to roll off of the bed. After trying everything he could, Illya gave in and rolled over.

This left his chest pressed flat against Napoleons back. The American could practically feel the grimace Illya had on his face when they pressed together, more from how much discomfort the move seemed to make Napoleon than anything on his own side. He also wasn't sure where to put his hands, and just let his arm drape over the other mans chest. It would seem less intimate than holding his hip or placing a hand over his heart. At least, he hoped it would.

Biting his lip, Solo cringed inwards. He wanted to just grab that arm and hold it, to feel what it would be like for Illya to wrap around him tightly instead of just dangling there because lack of other options. He clenched his fists, arms still tightly keeping his knees to his chest.

This meant nothing. It was survival, just something for comfort and safety.

"Cowboy...?" Illya said almost too quietly to hear, as if his name were a question. As weird and confusing as it all was for the man he was laying against, it felt just as odd to the Russian. In his mind thoughts of why this was so bad kept twisting and turning. Had he done something? Was Solo still just angry about having to share? That couldn't be it, as much as the guy acted like a stuck up capitalist, he was really generous and caring with people he loved. But what then? Overly tired? Hurting? Just over this whole mission? Illya hoped it was the latter, he was feeling similar. It would be harder to stomach the idea of being the reason behind the odd attitude than just general displeasure.

Taking a deep breath Napoleon didn't respond. What would he have said? Its not like he was just going to spill everything. They weren't supposed to have anything more than maybe a family dynamic, or that was the impression he had. It was to stay as a professional relationship. Otherwise in their line of work it could get messy, not only endangering the team, but the missions success.

If it weren't for that he was pretty sure Illya and Gaby would have shacked up by now. On top of that the idea of Illya accepting that a man was falling for him seemed unlikely. The KGB had instilled its feelings of dismay towards homosexuals for his whole life, not like it was exactly accepted in America either. But they wouldn't as commonly jail you, let alone execute you for it.

As tight as his fists had been for some time now he was finding it mildly uncomfortable. So solo wrapped one around each foot again, unsure of what to do at this point. The twitch in his fingers with his longing reminded him of how Illya would tap at his thigh when angry. Again he wandered back to the thought of his friend. This was a never ending spiral.

Just as he opened his eyes to count the number of rings on the nearest wall boards, hoping again to distract, the feeling of Illya pushing his nose a bit too firmly to his neck brought his attention right back. Unlike the way their closeness had made him feel so far, this was surprisingly comforting. The warmth of breath ghosting the nape of his neck and the slight touch of lips under his ear made him sigh. Possibly a bit too longingly for his own good. But for the first time tonight he felt ease moving through his tense and chilled bones.

Again any comfort flew out the window moments after his eyes had closed because Illya shifted again, this time pushing a leg between Solo's. Why couldn't he just have a single minute of peace? Was he not deserving of it? Because it kept getting his hopes up and knocking them down just as quickly.

Those wonderful horrible treacherous lips had just nibbled his ear. Fuck. All he could hope was Illya was sleeping and doing this unconsciously. Otherwise his groan from the feeling and the heat pooling in his gut would both be noticed.

He felt similar to when he was just hitting puberty and he couldn't control his body, finding unwanted things pop up at inopportune moments. By now a man should be able to handle such issues, he most often could, just not in this specific position. Even the strongest man would have a hard time facing a situation where the person they desired most was in their reach, actually more just right in their lap. He was only human after all. Wants, desires, lust, they often overtook any sane ideas or true needs.

Napoleon tried to pull away, moving his forehead against the cool wall. But in that moment of haste he used his legs to create the force needed to do so in these tight quarters. All thoughts were gone then, his hips had pushed back quite hard against Illya's pelvis, and to top it all off the man had taken hold of his hip. Grasping firmly to forcefully keep him in that position.

He just had to be sleeping. It was the only logical explination. Especially when he ground himself forward against Solo's ass. It had been so sudden he barely had a chance to bite his lip and keep from actually moaning, though the hardest thing wasn't his now aching cock, but kicking down the urge to rock back against the feeling.

"Cowboy.." Illya said suddenly, tone sharp and...desperate? Seeming like a growl beginning low in his chest. It rumbled against his back as it was slowly let out.

Another drawn out and completely lewd roll of his hips against Solo and he just couldn't stop himself. He let go of his ankles and put one hand on the wall in front of him for any sort of stability, while the other was splayed atop Illya's, the one holding his own hip with enough force to bruise.

"Peril...don't tease me...I cant take it.." He sounded wrecked already, with a hint of defeat and worry mixed in. It was probably the most pitiful he had ever heard himself sound and yet he didn't give a shit.

Illya shushed him, dragging his tongue up Solo's neck to his ear, again nibbling on the skin. "Cowboy, I am going to do many things to you." He licked and nipped more "I want to do everything..." The bite after that was more aggressive, more posessive, wanting everything.

It sent a shiver down his spine as Illya said such unexpected things. He never thought this would be the outcome, not in a million years. In his head, Solo thought the most likely thing would be Illya finding him disgusting and wanting a transfer. Or at least being mad at him for thinking such things, playing it off as how the man was a sex crazed idiot. This though, he was not at all prepared for.

"Shit-!" Napoleon hissed when that cold large hand had moved from between his hip and hand down Solo's stomach, inching its way under his waist band. He felt like he was on fire and that his heart was going to break through his chest when the fingers wrapped around the base of his cock.

"You are very lewd man Cowboy." Illya purred as he pulled his hand up and then down the shaft a single time, his own arousal pressing firmly against Solo's backside.

Huffing his reply, Solo leaned his head back against Illya's shoulder "And you aren't...?" He kept his voice as steady as he could, which was becoming increasingly difficult in a situation like this. He finally had exactly what he wanted. On top of that, Illya seemed to be enjoying it just as much as he. That whole issue of being denied and hated had all been in his head, if he stopped worrying for half a second maybe he would have seen they were on mutual ground.

"I do not try as hard to be." He said against his Cowboys ear, keeping up the agonizingly slow pace.

"And yet..." Solo twisted his fingers in the sheets just as Illya gave him another thrust, at the same time tightening his grip as he pleasured the mans front.

"Well.." He paused, now just rutting against him, slow and in control. "You work harder to prove self. Such desperation. Why else would you put on such show?"

Solo wasn't sure how to respond to that, maybe because of his current state, but even in his right mind he may not have had a good answer. So he brushed it off and reached his right hand back, taking Illya's hip in his hand like the guy had done to him not long ago. Hoping the force in it would keep him doing just as he was. Of course he wanted more than that, but for now the fiction felt lovely.

"For once, no sassy reply. I must be better than I thought." The superiority in his tone was almost as if they had switched roles.

"And for once I feel the need to tell you to shut up." Napoleon said with a smirk, unable to see Illya's face, but the feeling in the air around them was light now. More that sense of the banter and comfort they had during a mission. It felt right. Why had he been so tense earlier? Its just Illya, the man who always knew how to make him smile, the one who did everything in his power to keep Solo safe. He felt so silly for ever having worried.

Illya let go of Solo's arousal then, pushing his hand down one of the muscular thighs and groping at the skin "I want to taste you." He said. Voice nonchalant, as if this were a regular conversation where all clothes were on and hands kept to themselves.

Solo groaned annoyed at the lack of friction, yet he did enjoy the way those long fingers kneaded his skin. "And I want to suck your cock, but its not exactly going to happen in our current position, now is it?"

With yet another hard bite to his Cowboys neck, Illya grunted cupping the mans balls and gently massaging them. The thought of those wicked lips wrapped around him, that devious smirk still plastered on his face as he sucked Illya down was too much. Every last bit of blood rushed downward, giving him a moment of something akin to whiplash. What brought him back was the fantastic sound Solo made when Illya pushed his fingertips harshly against the mans perineum.

"Illya...I cant.." He breathed out through his teeth, back as arched as it could be with so little room. Illya so badly wanted to see his expression, he knew it would be unlikely they could re arrange themselves with out having to leave the comfort of the bed, but he was determined. All he wanted right now was to kiss this man silly, to see how his flushed lips hung open when he made such noises.

"Beautiful..." He moaned out before saying "Desperate and waiting for me...such filthy man..." as he spoke he kept biting and tasting, slurring his words. Somehow the disheveled way they reverberated against Solo made it sound even better. Its like he could feel the syllables under his skin.

Quick and Forceful, Illya said "Cowboy, roll over." It was obvious from the slight pause after it that had meant to ask and not demand, he just couldnt stop it from coming out that way with how hoarse his voice was becoming.

Napoleon could care less, if anything he liked the forceful way it hit him. He loved to know exactly what his partners wanted, to be able to fold to their demands. So when both of Perils hands were on his side, he began to turn himself, doing his best not to kick the body beside him in the process.

From afar it probably looked like a mess of limbs and uncoordinated movement, but either way they made it happen. Neither took much time to make sure all was well before they twisted around one another.

Solo again had one of Illya's legs shoved between his own as he rocked forward, all the while Peril fumbled to take Solo's cheeks in his hands. As quick as they could make it happen, their lips were pressed firm to the others and it was perfect, but still not enough.

The American breathed out Illya's name between kisses, arms wrapped around the broad heaving chest. He gripped Illya's shoulders as they made out, not having any rhyme or reason to their dance. They just wanted to feel everything they could, both wondering how they had waited so long to indulge in this.

With one of his hands behind his lovers head, Illya used his other to tug both his and Solo's underwear down enough to allow him access. He took a break from the kissing to both catch his breath and leave a few more bites between the other mans neck and shoulder. "Give me hand Cowboy." Illya said as he teased the head of the mans cock with the palm of his own.

Napoleon looked intently at Illya, doing as he was asked and meeting below. Illya lead him to grip them both together, having something far better that he wanted to do with his fingers. Of course Solo complied, already slowly jerking them off together. It felt marvelous to be pressed against the hot skin with no fabric blocking the way.

"What else?" Solo asked, feeling like he should be doing more than just this bit of fondling.

"Just keep going, feels amazing. You do not know how long I wanted to do this." Illya smiled at him, which caught Napoleon off guard. He blushed, which was quite unlike him, but the Russian man was being so truthful. Both in his words and expression. This was the first time he had seen Illya so open, so raw.

"Same..So much. I wanted you so much." He hummed his reply, leaning forward and giving Illya a few kisses on the neck. So far he hadn't had much chance to indulge in the sweetness, and he wanted to give just as much as he had been by the Russian.

Illya then spit in his hand, making sure to coat his fingers as best he could before heading down Napoleons side. He flattened his palm when he reached his hip and slid around back, groping the firm buttock while sliding deeper between the mounds of skin.

When he pushed against the entrance he felt Solo nip at his collar bone harder than he had thus far, the moan rumbling in his throat. "Oh, Illya.." He said almost inaudibly. If it weren't for how close the mans lips were to his skin he may not have noticed.

"I did not have anything to use...I hope this is enough." He sounded a bit embarrassed saying that, not because of the sexual aspect, but because he hated not being prepared. If he had expected anything like this to even be a possibility he would have brought lubricant.

"Its fine. I'll be fine." Solo reassured him, sounding utterly impatient. He thrust forward when more pressure was felt against the ring of muscle, wanting everything Illya could give.

Gritting his teeth when two fingers were slowly pushed in, he finally let out a long shaky breath when Illya stopped, all the way down to his knuckle. "God...your fingers are so big." He leaned his head back and stopped moving his hand that was around their cocks for a second, feeling overwhelmed in the best way.

Illya moved forward to bite Solo's chin, finding his expression irresistible. He looked so deep in ecstasy from just this. It made him want to really fuck solo, to see how different he would act when it was more than just wanton hands.

He curled his fingers forward and rocked his hips in time with the motion, unable to hold back any longer. Both of them moved together in a messy discombobulated way. Not much had been done, but they were both so close.

Solo was having a hard time keeping quiet and was worrying at his lip, so Illya went back to kissing him. Deep and slow. He could feel the soft whining traveling up his lovers tongue and in to his own mouth, he wanted so badly to hear it in full. To soak in the sounds and find every spot which tickled Solo.

As controlled as Illya was, Napoleon on the other hand was losing it. He couldn't keep his movements in time with Illya, his kisses were far more sloppy and rife with need. There was no stopping the inevitable at this point, no matter how much he wanted to keep going. To finally get everything and have it end so quickly was not how he wanted this to conclude. He just hoped it wouldn't be the last time they did such things.

"Peril, I don't think I can keep this up.."

"I am in similar boat Cowboy." Illya said, finger tips pressing against Solo's scalp as he held him, making sure he didn't pull away from the kiss.

He thrust up in to Solo's tight grip a few more times and right when he was hitting his own peak he added a third and final finger inside the man. It seemed like just what they both needed. The feeling of how tight it became around him and the extra hint of pleasure tinged pain made the trembling Solo whimper Illya's name as he came, still mildly aware of the small distance between their room and where Gaby was. Though more likely he was just so done for that he couldn't muster anything louder.

At the same time Illya grit his teeth and found his own release, the moment making him feel like the world was spinning. He had never wanted something so badly before. To get it was jarring, wonderful, completely unexpected. The only thing he could do was revel in the experience for as long as he could.

After a moment had passed and both went slack, relaxed with bones like rubber, Solo wiped his hand on the sheet below before placing it on Illya's chest. He lazily undid a few buttons then drug his fingers through the dusting of hair which had been exposed. Sighing, he felt more content than he had in a long time.

Of all people, he knew how nice sex was. How it could be a perfect end to a day. He just hadn't known how wonderful it would be when it was with a person you adored. That really was the cherry atop the metaphorical cake.

"Next time, I want you to really fuck me." He said as he looked Illya in the eyes. "I just cant even imagine how it will feel." Licking his lips he added "I don't know if Ill be able to walk after.." Voice soft while being so lascivious.

Illya cut off his ministrations with another kiss. Different in its slow rythym, methodical, but still delicious. He only cut away from it for a half a second to say "This time it is my turn to say shut up."

Napoleon chuckled as he felt a tongue slip in, lazily reaching his hands around the other mans back and let him have what he wanted. 

After all it was the same thing Solo desired, so there was no reason to complain.


End file.
